


The Benefit of the Doubt

by cathyearnshaw



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 03:28:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6406819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cathyearnshaw/pseuds/cathyearnshaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of the Schiff case brings Mulder and Scully together, in more than one way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Benefit of the Doubt

So we could rave on, darling, you and I,  
until the stars tick out a lullaby  
about each cosmic pro and con;  
nothing changes, for all the blazing of  
our drastic jargon, but clock hands that move  
implacably from twelve to one.  
We raise our arguments like sitting ducks  
to knock them down with logic or with luck  
and contradict ourselves for fun;  
the waitress holds our coats and we put on  
the raw wind like a scarf; love is a faun  
who insists his playmates run. 

("Love is a Parallax", Sylvia Plath)

***

 

The storm outside was mild compared to the electricity in the room.

They had just been released from the hospital after that terrible experience with the gigantic fungus. Scully was sitting on her couch, quietly sipping some hot tea while Mulder sat at her dinner table. He'd borrowed her laptop to write the report on the case and occasionally raised his head from his work to look at her. He had barely written two paragraphs in the last hour. Her computer was turned on, but she hadn't gotten near it yet; their off-duty work was going nowhere. She seemed to be immersed in thought, and he wondered, as he gazed at her, if her mind was as far from Angela and Wallace Schiff as his. 

The case had drained them both. It ended better than it began, though; a slideshow that led to bitter argument. She still doubted him, after all those years -- no, never him, he corrected himself as soon as the words entered his mind, but his far-fetched theories. It still hurt, anyway. 

+++ "Scully, in six years, how... how often have I been wrong? No, seriously. I mean, every time I bring you a case we go through this perfunctory dance. You tell me I'm not being scientifically rigorous and that I'm off my nut, and then in the end who turns out to be right like 98.9% of the time? I just think I've... earned the benefit of the doubt here." +++ 

He couldn't blame her for being who she was. He loved her for her scientific mind as much as for her unwavering courage and loyal heart. Scully wouldn't go against her conscience and tell him he was right before she had proof. 

She would, however, take his hand when he reached out to her. As always. As no one else ever had. In that ambulance, covered in dirt and barely conscious, Mulder had been more certain than ever that Scully was his lifeline. 

He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose and went back to typing, until she broke the silence. 

"You were dead, you know." 

He looked at her, alarmed. "What?" 

"Dead. I saw you inside that coffin. I felt... nothing. As if I had been sedated. Numb." 

"Scully. You were hallucinating. It wasn't real. I'm here and I'm very much alive." 

"I know. I know it can't be a memory. It didn't happen. But I saw you dead. And I can't stop thinking. Another close call. How many more until one of us really goes, Mulder? It's amazing we've gotten this far." 

He stood up, took off his glasses and went to sit beside her on the couch. She seemed tired, looking at her empty tea mug as if the truth they sought could be found inside the small object. He took the mug from her hands, set it on the table and raised her chin with a steady hand. 

"Scully. Look at me." 

Her blue eyes were dry -- it awed him how composed she always managed to stay. But he could see the doubt floating there. 

"What is it?" 

"Nothing. I'm just thinking." 

He chuckled. "You think too much, Doc. What you need now is a little dreaming. Why don't you go to bed while I finish the report? I'll lock the door when I leave." 

"Don't leave. I don't want to be alone." 

Her voice was firm, but he could see her hands shaking in her lap. She lowered her head again. 

"Then I'll sleep here on the couch. Just call me if you need me. I'll be right here." 

"I don't want you to sleep on the couch. I want you to stay with me. I... I need you." 

Mulder was awestruck. Whenever he'd imagined a situation where the walls they had built around their real feelings for each other would finally crumble down, all the scenarios had involved himself taking the first tentative step. God knew he had tried. 

+++ "You are my one in five billion." +++ 

+++ "You kept me honest." +++ 

+++ "Scully, I love you." +++ 

Trust Scully to just implode the concrete structure with a simple sentence. But he decided to give her a way out, just in case. "Scully, I'm not sure what you mean." 

"Do you remember what Padgett said to you in the prison?" she asked, finally raising her eyes to meet his. 

Of course. Those words. They had haunted him ever since. 

He hesitated -- that was dangerous ground -- and finally nodded. 

"Funny how a stranger had the guts to say out loud what we won't dare," she said, and then corrected herself. "What I won't dare. You have said it. I just refused to accept it. Actually, I wanted to believe you said that because you were drugged... so I wouldn't have to do anything about it." 

Mulder nodded again and bit his lower lip. He needed to find the right words. One misstep and it'd all be lost. 

"I meant it. But I thought that you'd given me a dignified way to deal with that without feeling rejected. That you didn't want to hurt my feelings."

"Jesus, we're such a mess, Mulder. How could you ever think I would reject you?" Scully touched his shirt sleeve, her thumb lingering where he knew she could feel his pulse, strong and steady. She seemed to forget that all those he had loved had deserted him somehow. Her eyes drifted to the window, where  
rain splattered against the glass in rivulets. 

Mulder put a finger under her chin and forced her to meet his gaze again. "I love you, Scully." 

The words were easy to say. There had been no need to swallow them anymore. She was obviously taken aback, not quite expecting that, but kept silent. Mulder went on, "There. I've said it again. And I'm as sober as I'll ever get. Do you believe me?" 

"I want to believe," she said, softly. "I do believe. I just don't want another day to pass without you knowing what you mean to me. I'm not good with words, Mulder, and you know it. I'm not good at showing my feelings either. But I'm willing to learn." 

He could sense it had taken a lot for her to open up like that. Scully didn't admit need easily, yet she had told him up front she needed him, not only then, but always. The whole situation was weird, in a welcome way; they weren't uncomfortable with each other, or embarrassed, but there was a change in the air  
they both were still struggling to acknowledge. 

"Listen, Scully," he said, holding her hand, "we don't need to rush things here, we--" 

She snorted. "I'd hardly call six years a rush." 

"I know. But we can't go back from where we stand now. I just want to make sure we don't. I want to move forward. Doesn't matter how long it takes." 

He let go of her hand when she stood up and walked to the window. 

She spoke quietly as she stared at the downpour outside. "You know this is the point of no return, don't you? Nothing will ever be the same from now on." 

Mulder smiled and quipped, "Cat's out of the bag, eh?" 

She shook her head. "I wouldn't use that expression to describe our acknowledgement of how we feel for each other, Mulder, but I guess it's as good as any."

He was momentarily afraid he'd offended her with the tacky remark, but let out the breath he was holding when she turned to him and smiled. "I'm sorry, Scully, I didn't mean to sound insensitive."

"Mulder, don't you think I'd be used to your peculiar sense of humor after six years? I know what you meant. So, the cat's out of the bag, so to speak. What now?"

"As much as I'd like to walk into the Hoover holding your hand, I don't think it would be a wise decision."

"We need to be careful," she murmured. 

He could see she was scared. Dana Scully was never scared. It saddened him a little that the only thing which could cause her fear was their being together.

"I don't want to hide, Scully," he said. "I know it'll be complicated, but I don't want to hide as if we were doing something criminal."

"Mulder, if word gets out we're involved, Kersh will have the perfect excuse to split us up. We have just gotten the X-Files back. Do you really want to jeopardize that?"

How could she still doubt, he thought. "If it gets to the point where I have to make a choice, I'll choose you, hands down, Scully."

She stared at him in disbelief. "You would leave the X-Files behind? What about Samantha?"

"It wouldn't be the first time I've had to choose," he answered truthfully. "Listen, I think we should leave this conversation for tomorrow. We're both tired and stressed. We don't have to make any decisions right now."

"My decision is pretty much made."

"And that would be?"

"I want us to be together."

"That's already been established," he joked, grinning.

"I want it tonight, Mulder," she affirmed, looking straight into his eyes. The fierce blue of her gaze made his heart jump.

He touched her cheek with the back of his fingers, and she leaned into his caress, closing her eyes. "You know, Scully, I used to feel guilty for wanting you this way," he said. "I used to think I already demanded too much from you to ask for more. But I can't have just a part of you. It has to be all or nothing."

"When has anything been halfway with you, Mulder?" she murmured, stepping closer. He drew her into his embrace and she leaned her forehead against his shoulder. Her arms snaked up his back. He could smell her shampoo as he rubbed his chin on her hair. 

Scully lifted her head and looked up at him. The glint in her eyes was both a challenge and an invitation.

Mulder did what he did best. He jumped right in.

When he took her face in his hands, his thumbs drawing slow circles over her cheeks, it seemed to him they had fallen into some kind of time vortex, so familiar was the sensation. He had a vivid flashback -- his dimly lit hallway, heart-wrenching pain crushing him at the idea of losing her, a moment of anticipation and then all hell breaking loose as she fell unconscious onto the floor. 

"Mulder?" Her voice called him back from his memory, and he blinked, focusing on her concerned gaze. "There you are, I thought I had lost you there for a moment." 

"Would you have left me?"

She frowned, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Salt Lake City. Would you have really gone?"

She sighed, and he could see she understood what he meant. "No, Mulder. I'd have left the Bureau, but never you. You need to know that."

"Scully--" His hands dropped to her shoulders, squeezing softly. 

"Let me talk," she interrupted, "before I lose my nerve." He nodded, and she continued, "I was so distraught that evening in your hallway. I had just listened to Skinner tell me I would be transferred to a field office, working with God only knows who, and I panicked. It finally hit me, Mulder. I told you the Bureau didn't hold the same interest for me, and it was true. Not without you as my partner."

Mulder's arms circled her waist and he pulled her close. Scully buried her face in the crook of his neck and whispered, "I was terrified. I didn't want to feel like that, I never meant to love you like this."

His hands moved up and down her back. "Why?" he asked, his voice strained.

"Because I knew I'd lose myself and never find my way back."

His only answer was to pull her even closer, as if he could get her under his skin. She went willingly, her arms going around his neck, her hands in his hair. She leaned back, caressing his forehead, standing on tiptoe so she could reach high enough to kiss it, and Mulder laughed.

"What?" she asked, smiling.

"I guess my forehead is definitely becoming an erogenous zone." 

That broke the tension, which was what both of them needed. Scully let go of his head and started giggling. The giggles soon turned into a full-hearted laugh. She was gorgeous when she smiled, but a laughing Scully was simply magnificent.

She laughed so hard, she actually cried; he wiped the tears streaming down her cheeks with a fingertip and traced the outline of her nose, down to her lips. Their eyes met and locked, and Scully caught his hand, placing an open-mouthed kiss on his palm without breaking eye contact. 

"We should be like this more often, Mulder," she said, still holding his hand. "We should enjoy life more. Enjoy each other's company. God knows we deserve it."

He nodded, his thumb caressing her fingers. "I'd do anything to see you happy, you know that."

"I'd like you to do something, then."

"What is it?"

"Take me to your place."

Mulder frowned. He couldn't remember the last time he had the apartment cleaned. "Um, Scully, I--"

"I don't care how messy it is, Mulder. I've been there enough times and it's never been Good Housekeeping cover material. Just take me to your place, will you?"

***

They drove to Alexandria in companionable silence, Elvis' Greatest Hits CD playing on Mulder's car stereo. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm of Jailhouse Rock and Scully smiled. The storm had slowed down to light rain and she drew slow circles on the fogged window. It was a moment of  
normalcy, something Mulder knew she craved and really cherished, and he was deeply content to be able to give it to her. 

When he parked the car behind his apartment building, she finally spoke. "You must know why I asked you to come here."

"I wasn't profiling you on the way, Scully," he said, smiling. "You tell me."

"Too many bad memories at my place. Tooms, Duane Barry, Melissa. I don't want anything to spoil tonight. And we have... unfinished business here. So to speak."

"Unfinished business?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded, getting out of the car. 

Mulder shook his head, amused, wondering what she was up to. His curiosity was piqued -- a mischievous Scully was something to behold. He finally understood what she had meant when he opened his apartment door and she didn't go in.

Scully stood in the middle of his hallway, her head tilted sideways, a smile on her face. "Unfinished business, Mulder."

He took two steps toward her and then she was in his arms, her mouth seeking his. 

It wasn't a new lovers' tentative kind of kiss; it was sure, deliberate, deep. Her hands went up his back; his fingers were buried in her hair. He started walking backwards into the apartment as she tried to get his jacket off without breaking the kiss. She eventually gave up and stepped back, removing her coat and watching him as he threw his jacket on the floor.

Mulder wanted to take things slow but soon realized that would be impossible. There was too much built-up tension, too much need, too many repressed feelings. He kicked the door closed and pressed her against it, hoisting her up as she threw her arms around his neck and circled his waist with her legs. She grabbed him by the back of his neck and kissed him again, her other hand sliding down his shoulder to find the buttons of his blue dress shirt. His hands tightened their grip under her thighs as she freed the buttons from the holes and lowered her mouth to his neck, her breath warm on his skin.

It was sensory overload -- her toned muscles flexing in his hands, her fingernails raking his chest and her tongue on his collarbone. Mulder spun around, praying that his legs wouldn't fail him, and walked toward his living room, pausing at the door. 

"Bedroom?" he asked, his voice unsteady.

"No, too far away." She bit his earlobe. "Besides, I'm afraid of what I'll see behind that door." 

"Very funny," he groaned, sitting down on the couch and pulling her onto his lap. The gurgle from the fish tank and the splatter of the returning rain on the window filled Mulder's ears and he smiled. Water. Water everywhere. Scully loved water -- the sea, her long baths, even the rain seemed to enthrall her. 

She was straddling him. He could smell her perfume. This is perfect, he thought. She is perfect. Life can't get any better than this.

Her hands had found his belt and she dealt with the buckle deftly -- it stunned him how assertive she was, how she had taken the initiative. She was seducing him, he realized with a smile. Mulder decided to follow her lead, let her set the pace, deal the cards. That was something he could give her.

Scully smiled back, crossed her arms in front of her chest and took off her sweater, revealing a plain, strapless white bra which turned Mulder's arousal up several notches. She didn't need lacy or sexy stuff to excite him. He'd make sure to fill her drawers with Victoria's Secret-labeled lingerie sometime, but that'd be just for fun. Raw, unbridled Scully was enough to send his senses reeling.

He buried his face between her breasts and his hands moved to the clasp on her back. The bra was on the floor in seconds. Scully grabbed his head, directing his mouth to where she wanted it. She shuddered at the first contact and he tightened his grip around her waist. Scully moaned softly, her hands raking his hair, her knees squeezing his thighs. 

He looked up at her as she moved her hands to his face, tracing each feature. Her gaze was intent. She looked serene, despite the state she was in; hair tousled, face flushed and breathless. She lowered her lips to his forehead, moved lower and slanted her mouth over his. He let her take control of the kiss, reveling in the feeling of her tongue exploring his mouth. 

Scully broke the kiss, her hands traveling down his chest under his shirt. She raised an eyebrow at him and he took if off, granting her better access to his shoulders and ribcage. She stood up, then knelt on the floor to remove his boots and socks. Leaning forward, she reached for his zipper. He understood her plan and leaned back so she could grab the pull. He had to hold his breath as her hands came in contact with his erection. She grabbed the waistband of his jeans and he lifted his hips so she could take the garment off. 

Mulder hadn't graduated top of his class in Oxford without good reason. He could see what Scully was trying to do; she wasn't the kind of person to openly speak her mind about her feelings, so she needed to show them by acting. He literally laid back to enjoy the ride -- he hardly ever indulged in simply letting himself be loved. Combining that with giving Scully some well-deserved joy just about overwhelmed him. 

She stood up and removed her boots and trousers, her eyes never leaving his as he watched her impromptu strip-tease, mesmerized. She was a vision before his eyes. It was his Scully Fantasy number one: standing in front of him, wearing only bikini-style panties, her cross necklace, and a hungry look in her eyes.

Mulder held out his hand and she moved closer. He hooked his thumbs on her panties and pulled them down and off. She moved back onto his lap, her arms going around his neck, her mouth grazing the bullet scar on his shoulder. He reached down and found her wetness, moving his fingers deftly until she gasped. Mulder suspected Scully would be quiet and focused when making love, although he was certain there would be an intensity in her which would match his own. He was right. She bit her lips, made soft sounds, and moaned his name while he pleased her -- nothing that would alarm his neighbors. Nevertheless, there was unquestionable passion in the way her hands traveled down his back, her mouth devoured his skin, her eyes locked on his.

She held her breath as her muscles clenched around his fingers. He must have done it right. She threw her head back and her hands gripped his shoulders to the point of pain. Mulder watched as she came, waited until she recovered. 

His own need eventually urged him on and with a quick move, he had Scully on her back, on his couch. He kissed her deeply as she helped him take off his boxers and buried his face in her hair, whispering his love for her. She didn't say anything, choosing to demonstrate her approval instead. She hooked her legs up around his waist and guided him inside her. He was glad she had climaxed before, because he was so far gone that he knew he wouldn't last long. He managed to set a rhythm that she matched after the first tentative strokes and Mulder felt their connection working in a totally different level, in the same perfect way. 

He'd been in love before. He'd certainly been in lust. This was partnership. 

He raised his head from the cradle of her shoulder and looked at her face. The way she looked at him as he loved her -- as they loved each other -- did it for him. He let go, barely conscious of her hands stroking his hair, gripping his arm, her lips on his temple as he came. She pulled him into her embrace, caressing his back soothingly as he shook in her arms, her name on his lips.

***

Deep inside his soul, Mulder had long ago accepted the inevitability of it.

He was teetering between feeling elated and terrified, now that the deed had been done. He knew he couldn't play the happy-go-lucky part and take things as they came. There would be ramifications. Scully would surely switch into full sensible-practical mode as soon as she woke up, and he was expecting a confrontation. He wanted to throw caution to the wind and kiss her on their bench by the reflective pool; she would probably want to set ground rules for their newfound relationship. It was part of the delicate balance  
of their partnership, this clash of opinions, this battle of wills.

Scully turned over in her sleep, murmuring his name. He snaked an arm around her stomach and pulled her close, burying his face in her hair as his eyelids slid shut. Tomorrow could wait. 

He'd loved her for so long. He had trouble putting his finger on the precise moment when Dana Scully took hold of his heart, but it did seem like forever. Mulder wasn't a love-struck romantic who'd say it was love at first sight. He had his guard all the way up when she knocked on his basement office door, and although she caused an unexpected impression, it hadn't been the kind that would eventually lead to a torrid Bureau affair. 

She'd intrigued him, then she'd earned his respect, and before he knew it she'd conquered his trust. Love had been the natural consequence. It was just a matter of time, of finding the right moment, the best opportunity. He'd played the coming-together scenario uncountable times in his mind. Given his very fertile imagination, the trigger for the final plunge had always been something larger-than-life, overdramatic, edgy. Life-threatening situations, heated fights; his couch, her bed, his desk, her dinner table. Ripping each other's clothes off without consideration for the hard-earned dollars spent on Armani's and Karan's; shoving her against the file cabinet forgetting they were on the clock and any bugs likely to be hidden all over their office; losing control after a harsh case in an anonymous motel in Nowhere America.

In the end, it had been simple. So much simpler than he ever imagined.

**Author's Note:**

> Fox Mulder, Dana Scully and the X-Files belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. But  
> they'd be nothing without David Duchovny and Gillian Anderson. I mean no copyright infringement with my  
> story; I just love them too much to let go of them.


End file.
